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Hydro Fever
Quaint tale about kids and hydroplanes.
Anybody do this same silly bicycle thing elsewhere in the country? Hydro Fever Seattle was a great place to grow up in the 1950's and 60's. Kids in most neighborhoods could play in the parks, the streets, and the schoolyards with little or no adult supervision. Few parents were seriously worried about child-raping sexual predators or other criminals accosting children in a public place during daylight hours, and we all rode second-hand single speed bikes or high-tech, three-speed, "English racers" around our local communities and beyond. Youngsters in Seattle had a common tradition that the current majority of Pacific NW adults (who were raised elsewhere and have immigrated to our little slice of heaven) almost certainly missed. During the summer months in Seattle, no red-blooded boy (or adventurous girl) would dare venture down the driveway and into the street astride a mere bicycle- no, we all were hydroplane drivers. Our hydroplanes consisted of scraps of wood, cobbled together with a few nails, and trailed behind our bikes on a few purloined feet of Mom's clothesline. Our wooden craft skidded and bounced along the pavement, fueled by pedal power and unbridled imaginations. The backyard "solar-powered" dryer also contributed suitable engine noise. Clothespins were snagged from laundry baskets and used to secure playing cards where they would flap and snap in the front spokes as we coasted through those Norman Rockwell times. The most skillful riders could manage a sharp bike maneuver that would send the attached hydro through a high speed, sweeping turn (hopefully without snagging an unlucky pebble that would send the tiny craft spinning flipping and spinning out of control). Even at that young age, I think we appreciated that real hydro drivers were striving to achieve the same result on a larger scale. The race associated with SeaFair in those days was frequently the prestigious Gold Cup. In a community where the only other professional sports event was the Pacific Coast League Seattle Rainiers minor league baseball team, Seattle's annual hydroplane race was our brief moment in the national sports limelight. Youngsters today wouldn't recognize "rabbit ears" or an outdoor TV antenna, and some would assume their family's 42" plasma video monitor needed to be rebooted if the image on the screen were only black and white. During the glory days of hydroplane racing in Seattle, groups of friends unable to get down to the shoreline near Stan Sayre's pits would gather around the still-novel appliance known as television. We'd fiddle with the rabbit ears, (hope a plane wouldn't fly through the signal), and watch the flipping, flickering, images on tiny "picture tubes" as the time trials and preliminary heats narrowed the field for the final race. It wouldn't be the least surprising to learn that the Gold Cup races in Seattle during those years enjoyed a broadcast audience share greater than does the Super Bowl in the present day. During SeaFair week, there would be a parade down Lake City Way. We'd marvel at the floats, laugh at the clowns, and only the youngest kids would admit to being uncertain about the intentions of the SeaFair Pirates. I was to young to shave, but Lake City men who failed to grow a beard during SeaFair or spend $1 for a "shaver's permit" lapel button were subject to being thrown in the Lake City Vigilantes' paddy wagon and hauled through the parade in deadbeat shame. Overriding all the happy events and goofy celebrations was the hydroplane race. The WWII surplus Allison aircraft piston engines roared as the boats flew around the course, and the "thunder" resonating off the surface of Lake Washington could be heard throughout most of Seattle. (Any complaints about excess noise seemed to take a low political priority until sometime after the race was over). We had our share of local heroes and favorite boats in those days. Many of the boats were campaigned by businesses headquartered in the Pacific NW. There was a Miss Bardahl, Miss Thriftway, Miss Pay 'N Pak, Miss Burien and more. Some extremely successful boats were built at Jensen Motor Boat Company on Portage Bay, with the Slo Mo Shun IV coming most immediately to mind. It was the Slo Mo Shun IV, driven by Stan Sayres in 1951 that shocked the eastern establishment by winning the Gold Cup in Detroit and moving the race to the "backwater" known as Seattle. The hydroplane drivers weren't at all like the pampered, overpaid stars now associated with most professional sports. Bill Muncey, Russ Schleeh, Mira Slovak, Billy Schumacher, and other colorful personalities were portrayed as "a lot like the regular guy next door, but probably a whole lot braver (or at least a little crazier)." Like NASCAR racers, most hydroplane drivers have survived a series of accidents or close calls. Like NASCAR racers, some of the most respected champions in the sport have perished in competition. It seems that Settle may be suffering a new epidemic of hydro fever. A hydroplane and race boat museum is attracting race boat fans to south Seattle. A new movie, "Madison", relates how hydroplane racing galvanized the community of Madison, IN, in the early 1970's. (The boats used for the race scenes in the movie were provided by the hydroplane museum). Most importantly, there is a resurgence of local interest in hydroplane racing and several events are scheduled on regional waters this coming summer. Look for "Miss Boat Electric", campaigned by one of the businesses that brings you this publication every month. We hope you will need to look extremely quickly to notice this magazine's logo on both tails when "Miss Boat Electric" flies past; as we are among the local sponsors for this craft. Hydro racing is an activity particularly associated with the Pacific Northwest. While it is strictly a spectator sport for most, it serves to remind us all that our local waters are a spectacular recreational resource for many types of boating activity. I think I'll enjoy following the races this year, and rooting, (of course) for the boat with our logo on the tails. For the first time since I began masquerading as an adult, I'm infected with hydro fever. Being involved as an associated sponsor will sure beat heck out of hunting up a rusty old single-speed, a clothespin and a playing card, and dragging a chunk of plywood down the street. And that's a good thing. Only those neighbors who were Seattle kids in the 50's and 60's would even begin to understand the weird spectacle as Crazy Old Man Gould thundered (Ok, wobbled) around the corner with a "hydro" in tow. |
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